Chapter 2706 Contract Clauses <TOC> Chapter 2708 Three Treasures
Translator: SumTLMan
“Since the moment the contract comes into being is taken as the benchmark, I can breathe easy,” Angel said, and the tension melted from his face.
In any case, he had already divulged nearly everything worth divulging, and Iron Armor Granny had long since understood his intentions. Even if Angel kept silent from this point on, Iron Armor Granny would comprehend.
Besides, even after the contract was signed there were still others who could speak.
Take Cecia, for instance, she had not signed any contract at all.
Then there was Totoro. He knew of Angel’s journey and could shape a prophecy around it, with Cecia serving as the very conduit of that prophecy.
Thus, to Angel, the third clause looked draconian but was in fact of little consequence.
While Angel exhaled in relief, the Sovereign of Wisdom frowned. He could not fathom why Angel had fastened upon that point; it was wholly at odds with his expectations.
Wasn’t Angel supposed to ask about the limits of the third clause? Or why the reward column lay blank? How had the man landed on such a baffling inquiry?
Could Angel already have leaked some of the information? The Sovereign of Wisdom dismissed the suspicion the very instant it arose: even he had no idea what Angel and the others would soon face, what the condition of the ruin site was, what the Goddess’ true nature might be, or what secrets were still veiled. All the matters that needed contractual secrecy had yet to occur, how could Angel possibly have revealed them in advance?
If not that, then why did Angel care so much about the moment the contract took effect?
The Sovereign of Wisdom was utterly perplexed… Just then the corner of his eye caught Daus, who was stroking his chin and gawking at Angel in equal confusion, until, all at once, Daus’ eyes lit in dawning comprehension.
The smile hiding in Daus’ gaze gave the Sovereign of Wisdom a sudden flash of “enlightenment.”
Daus had kept insisting that Angel possessed a sly, mischievous streak. At the time, the Sovereign of Wisdom had paid little heed, caring nothing for Angel’s temperament; now that Angel was poised to become the Wood Spirit’s temporary guardian, the Sovereign of Wisdom had to weigh the young man’s personality.
Daus was Angel’s companion; he surely knew Angel well. And he had declared Angel’s unruly nature with utter certainty, as though he had witnessed it firsthand, so it was probably true.
Moreover, once the Sovereign of Wisdom learned Angel’s age, he agreed that “mischievous” suited the youth perfectly. After all, what young man is not a little wild?
That being so, might Angel’s behavior be nothing more than mischief, an intentional refusal to broach the real issue as a way of venting his discontent?
The more the Sovereign of Wisdom pondered, the more plausible it sounded. He had already witnessed Angel’s sharp wit; Angel must have seen that the contract sought to bind him to the Wood Spirit through emotional ties.
And the contract had deliberately left blank spaces to be filled in later, Angel could not have missed that either.
Perhaps the youth was lodging a veiled protest, feeling he now possessed the capital to “push back.”
The Sovereign of Wisdom deemed the likelihood high, for he could think of no other reason Angel would latch onto such an obscure point.
If his conjecture were right, how should he respond? On second thought, better not respond at all.
Angel’s “protest” was measured; he had not chosen an outright confrontational question.
Just as the Sovereign of Wisdom had voiced his own demands in the contract obliquely, Angel was protesting obliquely.
And every protest hides a petition. Though Angel had not stated it, the Sovereign of Wisdom guessed he wanted him to yield a step, or perhaps to sweeten the reward.
Those requests were hardly excessive. The Sovereign of Wisdom mused that, so long as Angel eventually agreed to sign, a bit of cooperation would do no harm. The Wood Spirit did need to cling to this golden thigh; consider it an early investment on its behalf.
Having reached this conclusion, the Sovereign of Wisdom betrayed no impatience. Instead he asked in gentle tones: “Nothing else puzzles you? Say, the third clause, or why the punishments are so grave while the rewards are blank?”
By posing the question himself, he tacitly accepted Angel’s petition and graciously offered a way down from the stage.
On the other side, Angel never imagined that the Sovereign of Wisdom had spun an entire play in his own mind and stepped into a role, believing that asking first counted as backing down.
From Angel’s perspective, even if the Sovereign of Wisdom had not taken the initiative, he would have kept asking; the only difference was that now he needn’t spend the breath.
Beyond that, Angel felt nothing whatsoever.
The Sovereign of Wisdom was entirely moved by his own imagination.
Fortunately no one present could read the Sovereign of Wisdom’s inner drama, and he himself sensed nothing wrong, so everything remained calm.
Angel followed the Sovereign of Wisdom’s lead and said: “Indeed, those two points were next on my list.”
The Sovereign of Wisdom nodded inwardly; Angel knew when to stop, a sign of tact.
“The crux of your third‑clause doubts is the scope of the secrecy, correct?”
Angel merely nodded, pretending he had not noticed the Sovereign of Wisdom’s self‑posed question.
“As for the scope of secrecy, ” The Sovereign of Wisdom broke off mid‑sentence.
Several seconds ticked by before Angel looked up. The Sovereign of Wisdom had produced, at some unknown moment, a bizarre pair of triple‑framed spectacles; the lens upon his brow flickered incessantly, hiding his eyes, while the two ordinary eyes stared vacantly, dull and lifeless.
Angel found the scene strange when the Black Count’s voice murmured across their mental connection:
“Hm? The holes… they’ve vanished.”
Angel blinked, slow to grasp the meaning; only after a time did he realize the Black Count referred to the dog holes they had encountered along the way.
Those dog holes that seemed endowed with life.
The Black Count had left a scent marker at each, first to observe their nature, later to track the Traveling Merchants.
“Which hole vanished?” Angel asked, wondering whether the disappearance had anything to do with the Sovereign of Wisdom’s sudden fugue.
“Every hole I marked is gone,” the Black Count replied.
“What does a vanished hole signify?” Daus asked, baffled.
Silence swept the mental connection; none of them knew the truth behind those holes.
While they stared at one another, two soft coughs sounded. They turned to see the Sovereign of Wisdom, somehow restored to normal.
“I just recalled a few things, pardon the delay. Let us resume.”
He offered no explanation, and with the contract upon the True Word Book still flickering they dared not press him.
Yet just as he opened his mouth, he hesitated two seconds, then said instead: “You may have to face a few trials soon…”
“Trials again?” Angel frowned: “A bonus condition?”
The Sovereign of Wisdom shook his head: “No. These are inevitabilities on your road to the ruin site. She has already made her move.”
Angel stiffened: “She? The Demon God of Mirrors?”
Again the Sovereign of Wisdom refused a direct answer: “I’ll tell you later, now is not the time.”
This time Daus blurted out before Angel could speak: “You’ve admitted she’s acting against us, yet you won’t reveal who she is?”
The Sovereign of Wisdom cast Daus a sidelong glance: “You cannot meet her unless you reach the ruin site. What’s moving now are but the methods she left outside, much like the painting you saw.”
He paused, then added: “If she acted in person, I could intercept her. But these external measures, her chess pieces, so to speak, I cannot touch. You must deal with them yourselves.”
“Why? Because it’s a so‑called test?” Daus demanded.
“Call it a test, an obstacle, a tribulation, a checkpoint, whatever you wish. If you will not abandon the journey, these are unavoidable.”
“As for why I cannot intervene… I have my reasons.” The Sovereign of Wisdom’s gaze turned meaningful: “Besides, once you are done you may leave. I, however, must remain and face her, unless you can make her vanish.”
“Make her vanish? You hope we kill her? Kill a Demon God?” Daus cried theatrically: “Impossible! Do you think it’s ten millennia ago? No one in the Southern Region can slay a Demon God now.”
As Daus spoke, he failed to notice the subtle flicker across Angel’s face…
“Whether she is a Demon God, you should already have guessed,” the Sovereign of Wisdom said: “Because something bears that title does not make it so.”
“And I never said you should kill her, you cannot. Nor do I wish her dead.”
His words deepened their bewilderment. His stance seemed hostile, yet he did not want her slain; yet he also wished them to make her “disappear.”
What exactly did the Sovereign of Wisdom want?
Daus voiced the question aloud. The answer was as cryptic as ever: “All who stay here cling to their own obsessions. She is no different.”
He admitted openly to obsession, his own and hers, but said nothing of what hers might be. Judging by his contradictions, their obsessions differed.
Cecia had once said the Sovereign of Wisdom’s obsession was to see Nightfall City shine anew.
That was the dream of most of the sleepers in these sewers.
If her obsession differed, what could it be?
While everyone pondered, the Sovereign of Wisdom resumed: “Once the contract is signed and we reach my residence, I’ll tell you whatever you wish to know.
“But before that, you may have to weather the trials she has prepared.”
He glanced at the Black Count and then at Vai: “Which reminds me: I can now be fairly certain of one thing, your Noah line has utterly forgotten the ruin site.”
The Black Count held his silence.
The Sovereign of Wisdom was right: he knew nothing of the ruin site. Their visit had been prompted only by a hunch from the Death Scent.
Previously, the Sovereign of Wisdom had been unsure because Noah descendants had indeed entered the sewers, seeking the ruin site. Now, why was he suddenly sure?
Because of… “her”?
“If it were earlier,” the Sovereign of Wisdom went on: “I’d care how you got here and why you know of the ruin site. Now none of that matters. Whether by design or accident, your Noah lineage is already known to her, and you refuse to retreat. You have but one path: confront her.”
“Confront her, and then?” the Black Count asked.
The Sovereign of Wisdom gave a small smile: “That is your family’s secret, how should I know?”
The Black Count doubted the ignorance, recalling the phrase “make her vanish.”
“No need to probe,” the Sovereign of Wisdom said: “I truly don’t know. Augustine was maddeningly secretive; aside from you Noah descendants, he left not a single clue.”
Yet the Black Count still suspected. Surely, after ten thousand years, the Sovereign of Wisdom must have gleaned something?
Above all, he had sidestepped the key phrase “make her vanish.”
That, perhaps, was the heart of it.
While the Black Count pondered, the Sovereign of Wisdom turned to Angel: “Shall we resume the contract, or do you have questions as well?”
Whatever motive had brought the Noah descendants here did not concern him; but he truly wished to know Angel’s motive. Was the youth really here only to record events?
So the Sovereign of Wisdom invited Angel’s questions.
And indeed Angel obliged, though his query had nothing to do with the ruin site.
“What, precisely, are the trials?”
“That depends on which chess pieces she can move,” the Sovereign of Wisdom replied.
Angel thought a moment, then asked outright: “Do her chess pieces include those strange little holes in the passage outside?”
The Sovereign of Wisdom froze for an instant, then laughed.
“Little Treasure told me earlier that it had caught your scent. I didn’t expect you’d be so concerned about it, too?”
Chapter 2706 Contract Clauses <TOC> Chapter 2708 Three Treasures